


All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You (Dean Winchester x Reader)

by deanwanddamons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Job, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean Winchester And Reader, Dean Winchester And You, Dean Winchester Reader Insert - Freeform, Dean Winchester Smut, Dean Winchester x You - Freeform, F/M, Fucking, Inspired by Music, Jensen Ackles - Freeform, Jensen Ackles Smut, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki - Freeform, Music inspiration, SPN - Freeform, Sex From Behind, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural smut, dean winchester fan fic, dean winchester fan fiction, dean winchester fanfiction, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, heart - all I Wanna do is make love to you, pussy licking, supernatural fan fic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22678111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwanddamons/pseuds/deanwanddamons
Summary: You’re driving alone after getting into a huge fight with your now ex-boyfriend. You spot a guy standing on the side of the road in the rain, hitching a ride, so you give him a lift. That guy happens to be Dean Winchester. This fic was inspired by the song ‘All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You’ by Heart.
Relationships: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x You
Comments: 22
Kudos: 58





	1. All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

‘That’s it! I’m outta here,’ you yell as you slam the door behind you, running into the rain. 

Jamming your hands in your pockets, you find your car keys. Having just discovered your boyfriend is sleeping with a girl that he works with, you decide to go for a drive to clear your head. Seething with anger, you get into your car and pull the door shut with a noticeable slam. 

‘That cheating bastard!’ you scream, slamming your hands on the steering wheel in frustration. 

The wheels spin out of the yard as you head towards the highway with no destination in mind. You just need to drive. 

Deep down you knew he wasn’t happy because things had not been right for a long time. You hadn’t made love for months, but you somehow thought he would have the guts to end it rather than cheat. If you're being honest, you weren’t happy either. You and boyfriend were more like roommates than lovers and you were stuck in a rut. Maybe this was the excuse you needed to finally get out. 

The rain is coming down so hard it’s getting increasingly difficult to see the road ahead. To avoid an accident, you turn onto a side road in the hope the rain will clear up soon.You look up and realize you must have driven for miles. You are in the middle of nowhere, and you don’t really know where to go next. Suddenly, your headlights catch a figure standing on the side of the road. Curious as to why someone would be standing alone in the rain, you slow down and roll the window down. 

‘Hey, are you okay?’ you shout to the figure. As he approaches the car, you see it’s a man of roughly your age who is soaked to the bone.

‘Hey,’ he answers. ‘My car broke down just up the road, and I have no battery on my cell.’ As he leans in through the window, your breath catches in your throat. He is gorgeous. Really, really gorgeous.

Okay, so this could be dangerous.

You are miles away from anywhere that you vaguely recognize, and a complete stranger is currently leaning in through your window. He could be a serial killer or a rapist, though something about his manner tells you he’s not. If you’re wrong, the next decision you make could be your last, but you make it anyway. 

‘O-oh,’ you stutter. ‘You’re soaking. Get in.’

Smiling, he jogs around the car and gets in. ‘Thank you so much. This weather sucks!’ he laughs. Your ears prick up as you register just how deep and sexy his voice is. ‘I’m Dean,’ he introduces himself with a big smile. 

The interior light allows you to see his face properly. Short dark hair, sparkling green eyes framed by long lashes, plump succulent lips over perfect white teeth, a dusting of freckles across his nose, and a slight stubble on his cheeks. 

‘Hi Dean. I’m Y/N,’ you respond. ‘Let me just get my cell, and we can call you a tow truck.’ Checking your pockets, you realize you left your cell in the house. ‘Shit, I don’t have it with me. I kinda left the house in a hurry,’ you tell Dean, turning to face him.

He makes a move to get out. ‘Oh okay, never mind, sweetheart. If you’re in a hurry I’ll--”

‘-no, it’s fine. You can’t go back out in that weather,’ you interrupt. ‘Is there anywhere I could take you instead?’ You notice how the handsome man next to you takes a moment to think over your question.

‘There’s a motel a few blocks away,’ he says, looking out of the window. ‘If I could trouble you to take me there, I’ll get a room for the night and sort something out tomorrow.’ 

‘Won’t your girlfriend be worried if you don’t come home?’ you inquire. 

‘No,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’ 

‘Okay, just show me the way to the motel,’ you begin, revving the engine while secretly praising that he is single. 

‘Are you sure? I’m just some random guy. I could be anybody,’ Dean says with a look of concern on his face.

‘If I leave you standing here in the rain, I won’t be able to sleep tonight,’ you tell him. 

‘Well okay then.’ he nods, settling down into the seat. 

During the ride you and Dean slip into easy conversation. You briefly tell him why you rushed out of the house, and he tells you that he had been working in the area. His brother, Sam, is also in the family business with him, but is in another state on a different job so he is working this one alone. He was heading back to join Sam, when his car broke down. It only took around fifteen minutes to get to the motel and soon enough, you see the motel sign lighting up the sky in the distance. 

‘Here we are,’ Dean says with what sounded like disappointment in his voice. ‘Do you have time for a drink?’ he suddenly announces, ‘as a thank you for driving me here.’

You really don’t want to go back home, so against your better judgement you decide to go. What’s the harm in having one drink with a handsome stranger? 

‘Sure, why not?’ you agree, pulling the car over to the sidewalk. 

‘Awesome. I’ll go and check in. There’s a bar just over there,’ Dean says, pointing out of the window to the building next to the motel. ‘Wait here, I’ll be right back.’ He jumps out of the car and runs toward the reception. 

Watching him leave, you process what could be happening here. This is so unlike you. You're normally so sensible, so vanilla, but you're still young and technically newly single, so why not enjoy it? A sharp rap on your window disturbs your thoughts, making you jump. Dean is standing there with a smile.

‘All sorted,’ he says, raising his voice against the sound of the rain. ‘Shall we get that drink?’ 

Opening the door, you step into the night, the rain cold as it hits your face. Dean takes your arm, and you run together across the parking lot into the warm, dry, and gloomy bar. 

It’s quiet, and there are plenty of places to sit, so you follow him to a booth in the back. As he removes his brown leather jacket, you notice how broad his shoulders are and his strong arms fill the sleeves of his denim shirt. How his Levi's fit snugly against his muscular, slightly bowed legs and very peachy ass. Wow, this guy is seriously off the scale hot.

‘What are you drinking?’ he asks as he puts his jacket on the seat. 

‘Whiskey, on the rocks,’ you tell him.

‘Girl after my own heart,’ he grins as he turns and walks away. 

After a few minutes, he returns and slides into the booth beside you, sitting close. The touch of his thigh against yours sends shivers up your spine. 

‘So, Dean,’ you hedge, turning to face him. ‘Tell me more about the family business you and your brother are involved in.’ 

‘We are, um, shall we say, exterminators,’ he tells you hesitantly. ‘We travel around the country and help people to get rid of...pests.’

‘So, once your car is sorted, you’ll be leaving?’ you question. 

‘Yep,’ he responds, taking a sip of his drink. His deep green eyes look intently at you over the rim of his glass. Is it just wishful thinking, or do you see a mischievous glint to them? Placing the tumbler on the table, he runs his tongue along his succulent lips. Is he flirting?

A naughty thought runs through your mind. Dean is hot, single, and has a motel room for the night. You're newly single and haven’t had sex for months.

‘Do you often take random women out for a drink when you’re on the road?’ you ask, running your finger around the edge of your glass. 

‘It has been known, but they are rarely as sexy as you,’ he whispers. 

Okay, you think, he’s definitely flirting. You swallow hard. 

‘Rarely? I would have preferred you to say never,’ you respond with much more confidence than you currently have.

Placing his warm hand over yours, he looks you directly in the eyes. ‘I’m sorry, never as sexy as you,’ he says, his voice low and deep. 

His face is so close to yours, you can count the light freckles that run over his nose. The smell of him is intoxicating. A mixture of spearmint from the gum he has been chewing, a clean, woody cologne, and whiskey. 

Even though your heart is pumping so fast from nerves, that you think you are going to have a heart attack, you lean forward and kiss him lightly. His lips are soft and responsive. They part slowly, his tongue hesitant, but you allow him access, the taste of the whiskey still evident. 

His arm snakes around your waist, and he pulls you towards him, deepening the kiss. You are aware you are in public, but you need this so bad that you allow yourself to relax, and lace your fingers around the back of his neck. 

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead on yours. ‘Shall we move this conversation elsewhere?’ he whispers. 

‘Let’s get out of here,’ you respond breathlessly. Sliding out of the booth, he grabs his jacket. Taking your hand, he helps you up. 

‘What am I doing?’ you silently ask yourself as he leads the way to the door, your hand still in his. 

When you get outside, Dean spins around to face you. Kissing you hard, he pushes you against the wall. Using his knee, he opens your legs, and his pelvis meets yours. You whimper as you feel his hardness through his jeans. His long fingers link with yours as he raises your arms above your head, his mouth leaving yours to travel down your neck. 

The rain is still falling but it doesn’t bother you. The water runs down your face, cooling your hot skin. His lips have ignited a passion inside you that you had forgotten existed. 

‘I want you, Dean,’ you hear yourself whisper, not really understanding where your confidence has come from. You need him so bad it escapes your lips anyway.

‘I want you too, Y/N,’ he breathes, lust glinting in his green eyes. ‘There’s a warm, dry bed waiting for us.’ 

‘Let’s go then,’ you respond, pulling him by the hand towards the motel. 

‘Are you sure about this?’ he questions as you run through the rain. 

‘Absolutely,’ you reassure him. ‘I really need this right now.’ 

Finding his room, he produces the key from his pocket. He fumbles as he attempts to open the door, which causes you to giggle. 

‘Sorry, I laugh when I’m nervous,’ you chuckle. 

‘Why are you nervous?’ He says, taking your face in his hands. 

‘I was with my ex for a long time,’ you admit. ‘And I haven’t really been with many people before him.’ 

‘Don’t worry baby,’ he says, turning back to the door, and finally manages to open it. ‘I’ll be gentle.’ He looks over his shoulder at you. ‘That’s if you want me to be,’ he adds with a wink. 

Giggling, you follow him into the gloomy room as he switches on a lamp. The room is sparse with just two double beds, a TV on a stand, and a hard backed chair. 

‘I know it’s not exactly luxury, but it will do for what I need it for,’ he says apologetically. 

‘It’s fine,’ you acknowledge. ‘As long as it’s clean, then it’s fine.’ 

Feeling a little awkward, and not quite sure what to do with yourself, you take off your jacket and hang it on the back of the chair. You sit on the edge of one of the beds and attempt to act casual as you kick off your shoes.

Having also taken off his jacket, he walks over and sits next to you. 

‘So...’ he trails off, taking your hand. His fingers move a stray piece of hair from your face, placing it behind your ear. Before you have time to speak, his lips are on yours again, kissing you hard. 

Falling into the kiss, you lie back on the bed with your arms around his neck, and he follows. His hands move slowly along your hips, sliding inside your T-shirt, and along your ribs. His touch is so incredible, your skin feels like it is on fire. Until now, you didn’t realize how much you needed this; to feel wanted by someone again. 

You groan involuntarily so he moves, all the while deepening the kiss until his hard body is covering your small frame. His lips leave yours and move to your neck. You start to undo the buttons on his shirt. Noticing a black, almost tribal tattoo on his broad chest, you trace it with your fingertips.

‘Sweet. What does it mean?’ you ask. 

‘Just something my brother and I both have. We’ll just call it a form of protection,’ he mumbles against your skin, his breath causing you to break out in goosebumps. 

Taking the hem of your T-shirt he pulls it over your head. His hands tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back, and his tongue travels down your neck and back up to your waiting mouth. The tip of his tongue maps your lips before meeting yours. 

Expertly, he pops the clasp of your bra and takes it off in one swift movement, flinging it aside. His rough fingertips run down your chest, and brush across your breast. You moan into his mouth as he takes a pert nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently massaging it. The taut spring in your stomach is beginning to tighten, and a hot slick pools in your panties. His tongue follows the line of your neck to your shoulders and down your chest, and he sucks a nipple into his warm mouth, tongue circling, swirling in a figure of eight. 

‘Fuck Dean,’ you breathe, ‘that feels so good.’ 

Feeling him start to fumble with your belt buckle, you reach down and undo it. His fingers pop the button on your jeans as he slides his hands into the waistband, and with an audible pop, he releases your swollen nipple. He stands up at the foot of the bed, and wriggles your jeans down your legs, throwing them aside. 

‘Jesus, you're beautiful, sweetheart,’ Dean comments husikly as his green eyes survey your body. 

‘Your turn now,’ you reply with a smirk and sit up. Returning the look, he quickly takes off his boots and jeans. 

Your eyes follow the delicious contours of his incredible body, and they stop when you reach his tight, black shorts. The outline of his hard cock is visible through the material. He looks so divine standing there that your heart momentarily stops beating. Your pussy flutters at the sight, and the heat in your panties continues to build. This man is exquisite and you want, no need, to feel him inside you. 

He leans down to kiss you, so you pull him down. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hungrily kiss him back, with your hands balling into fists in his short hair. He wastes no time grinding his pelvis into your heat. The material of your panties causes friction against your clit, and the coil in your stomach is tightening by the second. 

Slipping his hand into your underwear, he easily glides through your wet folds. His fingers find your entrance and he slips two inside your warmth. 

‘Fuck,’ you purr, arching your back to meet them.

‘So fucking wet for me,’ Dean groans. 

He begins to scissor his fingers inside you. You can feel your juices starting to flow, the sound of his voice turning you on even more. 

‘Let’s get these out of the way,’ he says. ‘I want to see all of you.’ 

Standing at the end of the bed, he leans over you. Gripping the top of your panties, he slides them down your legs, and drops them to the floor. 

Pulling yourself up so you're sitting at the foot of the bed, you put your feet on the floor beside his, knees on either side of his legs. Because your face is directly in line with his taut abs, you lightly kiss them and follow the line of hair from his stomach to the top of his briefs. With quick fingers, you make light work of removing them, releasing his thick, hard cock. 

He is a sight to behold. He looks divine. The head of his cock is engorged, pre-cum already glistening there. The need to taste him overwhelms you. Leaning forward you suck his cock slowly into your mouth. As you roll your tongue around the tip, you hollow your cheeks. Swirling your tongue from the base to the tip, you take his length down your throat as far as you can. 

‘Shit, Y/N,’ Dean moans as he starts to thrust a messy rhythm. 

Putting both hands on his ass, you firmly hold him in place. As you slow down your pace, you lightly run your teeth down the underside of his cock, running your tongue back and forth along his balls. Gripping your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back so you stare up at him with hooded eyes. 

‘Lie back for me baby,’ he demands, and you do as he asks. Sinking down to his knees, his big hands push your legs apart. Using butterfly kisses, he moves up the inside of your thighs until his mouth reaches your needy pussy. Your clit is throbbing at the thought of his plump lips on your heat. 

As his fingers part your folds, he runs his tongue up your soaking slit. A bolt of lighting shoots through you as he sucks in your sensitive nub, the tip of his tongue stiff as it quickly flicks up and down over it. 

‘Oh my god, Dean,’ you hiss through gritted teeth as a rush of ecstasy flows through your body. Waves of pure pleasure begin to pulsate in your core as he devours your pussy as if he is starving. ‘Don’t stop,’ you plead, raking your fingers through his hair as you look down at him. 

‘I wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me?’ he murmurs, the vibration of his voice sending shock waves through you.

He buries his head once again, his tongue thrusting into your hole. Noticing your slight hesitation, he takes one of your hands and guides it down your stomach, moving your fingers between your mound. You have never done this in front of anyone before. However, you’re probably never going to see Dean again after tonight, so you decide to go with it. 

Hesitantly, you press your index and middle finger on either side of your bundle of nerves, and begin to stroke. The thrusts of Dean’s tongue in your hole gets faster, as he raises his head slightly, opening his mesmerising green eyes and looking directly into yours. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, he continues the rhythm he had built up. Licking along your slit, his tongue meets your fingers, and you simultaneously massage your clit. As your spring uncoils, a wonderful feeling of relief takes over you. 

‘Fuck Dean, I’m going to cum,’ you groan as your fingers speed up. Arching your back, you allow the waves of pleasure to wash over you, your juices flowing over his tongue as he laps them up. 

‘Hmm, you taste incredible,’ he whispers as you lay back on the bed, panting, your pussy muscles still fluttering. 

Grabbing your hands, he pulls you up as he stands and swiftly spins you around. His mouth is on the back of your neck, chest against your back. He bends you over so your ass is against his hips, and you push up onto your hands. 

‘Don’t move,’ he demands and moves away from you. You hear the unmistakable sound of a wrapper being torn open, and you look over your shoulder to see that he has produced a condom. ‘Always have one in my wallet in case of an emergency,’ he smirks. 

Realizing this guy is obviously a player, you are relieved that he has the sense to think about protection as it had not crossed your mind; you were so caught up in the moment. You begin to feel a little self conscious because you’re bent over the side of the bed with your ass in the air, so you go to move.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he says huskily, returning to the spot he just vacated. 

Running one hand across your ass cheek, he uses his other to push gently but firmly on the small of your back, which causes you to bend over the bed further. Opening your legs slightly, you push your ass back against him, and his thick cock slips easily between your damp thighs. Teasingly, the tip nudges at your opening. 

Gripping your hips with his fingers splayed, he leans forward and whispers, ‘are you ready for me, sweetheart?’ 

An animalistic sound comes from deep within your chest. You want to feel him inside you so bad, want him to fuck you so hard, that you can barely remember your own name. Leaning your head down, you rest your forehead on your arms, tipping your ass up to him, all inhibitions lost. 

‘Yes, Dean,’ you croak, ‘please, fuck me.’ 

With that, he thrusts into you with a grunt. Immediately, a breath is pushed out of you. A loud moan espaces your lips once you get past the brief stab of pain as he stretches you open. That pain doesn’t last long, and it’s soon turned to pleasure. As your muscles contract around him, he pulls almost all the way out. He takes a second to wrap your hair around one hand, then thrusts back into you, pulling your head back as he does. 

‘You’re so tight,’ he moans in a guttural voice. 

His fingers dig into your hips as he slams into you. As he builds up speed, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass mingling with his groans fills the room. The sound is strangely erotic, and the familiar tingling in your core returns. Normally, it takes your clit being stimulated for you to cum, but the way he’s fucking you is bringing on a whole new feeling that you have never experienced before. 

‘Oh fuck, fuck,’ you spit as the dam in your stomach begins to crumble. Sensing your impending orgasm, Dean leans forward and grips your hair harder.

‘Move forward,’ he orders, and you don’t dare disobey him. 

Getting on his knees behind you, you push your ass closer to him. Using your hips as leverage, his thrusts get harder and faster as his hands move to your shoulders. He pulls you up so your back meets his chest, and his lips find the top of your spine. His teeth lightly nip at the delicate skin on the side of your neck, and he sucks lightly. 

‘Oh my God,’ you yelp as your dam breaks.

Wave upon wave of electricity flows through every nerve in your body, and your knees buckle. Dean’s rhythm starts to falter as the tip of his tongue runs along the spot he had been sucking, his strong arms around your waist. With one last powerful thrust, you hear a deep, low moan fill the air as he cums. 

‘Jesus Y/N, fuck,’ he breaths as he sags against you. 

Panting, you drop down on your stomach as he rolls over onto his back. You bury your head into the pillow. A moment of silence passes, broken only by you both breathing heavily. Eventually, you feel him get up from the bed. 

‘I’ll just get rid of this,’ he says, his voice getting distant as he goes into the bathroom. 

Having come down from your high, you begin to feel a little exposed. Sitting up, you stare around the room. An overwhelming feeling of shame suddenly envelops you. 

I gotta get out of here.

Picking up your clothes from the floor, you start to get dressed. Running your hands through your hair, you consider what has just happened. You just had the most incredible sex with a complete stranger.

Shit, I just had sex with a complete stranger! Oh god, what have I done? 

A feeling of panic rises in your throat. Quickening your pace, you continue getting dressed. The desperate need to get out of the room takes over you. Dean returns from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He notices you have started to put your clothes back on. 

‘Oh, you're leaving?’ he asks with a confused look.

‘Er… yes… sorry,’ you squeak, shoving your feet into your shoes and grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. ‘I’m so sorry, Dean. I have to go. I’ll admit that was amazing, but it shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.’

You lean into him, briefly bringing your hand to his face and kiss his cheek. You take one last look at his gorgeous face.

‘Bye, Dean.’ you sigh. ‘I hope you get your car sorted and get back to your brother.’ 

You leave him standing there, speechless, an expression of complete surprise on his face as you close the door behind you. You never saw Dean Winchester after that day, but you often thought of him, wondering if he ended up getting back to Sam. The memories of him are fantastic, and you can still see that beautiful face whenever you close your eyes. He will always be the handsome stranger that made you feel alive for one incredible evening.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were driving alone after getting into a huge fight with your now ex-boyfriend. You had spotted a guy standing on the side of the road in the rain, hitching a ride, so you gave him a lift. That guy happened to be Dean Winchester and you had an unforgettable one night stand with him. Part 2 continues the story and there’s a surprise in store for both you and Dean

Three Months Later

“Shit, shit, shit,” you groan, tears filling your eyes as you stare down at the positive pregnancy test in your hand. 

How could this have happened? Nothing had gone right for a few weeks. You’d had to change your job to avoid your ex, office romances weren’t ever a good idea. You had to move home since said ex boyfriend had moved the woman he had an affair with into the home you’d once shared and now this.

Maybe it had been a mistake to pick up a hitchhiker and screw him in a motel room. But you’d needed the comfort, the small escape. Besides, Dean had been the best sex of your life. One night stands were supposed to be forgotten, but any girl would have trouble forgetting Dean. 

Everything about the night was as vivid as reality, even the look of shock on his face when you’d bolted from the room, guilt and shame not allowing you to stick around. 

Shaking your head, you refuse to believe that the first test was right. They were not always accurate so you had bought two, just in case. Looking to the side of you, you focus on the second test inside the box. You rip the plastic open and sit on the toilet. Maybe you should have drank some more water. 

You had expected to hear from Paul, your scumbag ex. Maybe a text or phone call. Especially when he would’ve returned home to find all your belongings gone. But you’d heard nothing. Your best friend had offered you her spare room but you hadn’t wanted to be a burden so a few weeks later you found a small apartment to rent in town. Thank god she wasn’t here now because she’d have been the first to tell you how much of a mess you are in. 

The second test would need a couple of minutes to develop so you place it on the countertop and wash your hands. As if landing the only job in town as a maid for the motel you’d spent the incredible night with Dean in hadn’t made it hard enough to forget him, the two little blue lines have now made it impossible. 

“Fuck!” you yell into the mirror. 

It had been a stressful couple of months, it was understandable you’d miss a period. You’d thought nothing of it, brushed it off as stress and the shitty diet you’d been keeping of late. 

Then you missed a second period and the second test has confirmed what you’d wanted it to deny. 

Pregnant. 

It’s Dean’s. The timing fits perfectly and you hadn’t slept with your ex for months before the split. Dean had worn a condom, but it had obviously failed. 

“Fuck!” you scream again, punching the countertop, bringing your hand to your mouth when you notice a trickle of blood on your knuckles. Panic and fear are washing over your body like a tidal wave. 

Sitting heavily back down on the toilet, you bury your head in your hands, and start to cry. 

————————————————————————  
A Year Later

Working at the motel still reminds you of Dean, but thankfully the room your tryst had taken place in isn’t on your rota. But you’d have traded that to not have to clean room 237. Approaching the door you take a deep breath and enter your card key into the reader. Green Light. 

Opening the door slowly, you enter. As usual, you feel the noticeable temperature difference from the corridor. Looking around you shiver. This room always gives you the creeps, the sense of foreboding heavy and thick. As the rumour goes, a young maid - having an affair with the motel Manager, Tony - had committed suicide after he ended the relationship. She chose to slit her wrists in the bathtub of room 237, where they used to meet. Three months later, Tony had done the exact same thing. 

Pulling your cart through the door, you move quickly to the bed to change the sheets. A scratching sound from the bathroom takes you by surprise. Even though your heart rate quickens, you decide to ignore it. Gathering up the dirty linen, you dump them in the cart. There it is again. What the hell is it? There’s no one else in or near the room. The atmosphere is getting heavier, the pressure getting stronger. The need to flee is becoming overwhelming. 

Again; louder now. Walking towards the bathroom, palms sweating, hands shaking, you reach for the handle and pull the door open. 

It’s empty. Pulling back the shower curtain, you scream as the image of a figure materialises in the tub. 

Bolting from the room, heart almost bursting out of your chest, you fall to your knees, sobbing. The need to be with your daughter, to hold her, to smell her is the only thought in your confused mind. 

————————————————————————

Grace was born on a bright, cold fall day in October. It had been a fairly easy pregnancy, but a difficult birth, so you were in the hospital for a week. 

Luckily, she’s a pleasant and placid child, with the most intense green eyes, a smattering of freckles across her nose and her lips were plump and full. Every time you look at her you can see her father, which makes your heart ache, but you know you have to keep on going for her sake. 

She is your world, your everything and you love her more than words could explain. 

Your friend had not approved of you keeping the baby at first, as she had said it would ‘ruin your life’ but you knew there was no way you could get rid of it. Plenty of people managed to bring a child up alone, and you knew, with hard work and perseverance, you could do it too. Eventually, your friend came around to your way of thinking, even offering to babysit when you had shifts at the motel. As you didn’t get paid maternity you had to go back to work almost straight away. 

The motel - you hate the place. 

After the encounter in the bathroom, which had haunted you since it happened, you had done some research online, and discovered this was not the first time this had happened. Twenty years ago, the same scenario took place in the exact same room. 

When the new manager started, you asked why the room was still being used. The answer was simply, “Money, honey,” so you never mentioned it again. Either the public were unaware of the history, or didn’t care, as it was almost always occupied.

————————————————————————

Your day starts out the same as any other. Leaving Grace with your friend you drive the short distance to the motel. 

Entering the reception area, you are surprised to find it empty. Sophie is usually behind the counter, but she is nowhere to be seen. 

“Sophie?” you call out as you walk behind the desk to collect the key to the supply cupboard. 

“Hey Y/N,” you hear from the back office, “come in here a second?” 

Putting your bag on the floor, you open the door to the office to find she is not alone. 

A very handsome man, with floppy brown hair wearing a smart suit is sitting at the desk. As he rises to shake your hand, you are amazed at how tall he is. He must be well over 6ft 4.

“Y/N, this is Agent Taylor from the FBI,” she introduces him as he shows you his badge.  
“Hi Y/N,” he smiles, shaking your hand. “My partner, Agent May and I are here to discuss the death of Tony Phelps. He’s just getting a glass of water. He will be with us shortly. Please, take a seat.”

There are two doors in the office. One, which you just came through, leads from the reception. The other leads into a small kitchen area. You sit, with your back to the door to the kitchen. 

“Why are the FBI investigating a suicide?” you politely ask Agent Taylor.

“We are not sure it was suicide,” he responds, “so we are talking to all the staff to find out if they saw or heard anything strange or unusual the night he died. Anything out of the ordinary. ” 

As he is speaking, you hear the door behind you open, so turn in your seat. You realise who has just walked through the door. The man you hadn't forgotten since that night. How could you forget him? 

Dean.

Your heart stops as the room suddenly loses all its oxygen. Your lungs cease to take in air, a weight on your chest pressing down on you like a vice. 

Staring at him, eyes wide and glassy, a lump forms in your throat, and for a brief moment you lose the ability to form words. 

What is he doing here? 

He stares back at you, an expression of realisation slowly changing his features. He goes to speak, but you briefly shake your head and force your gaze from his, looking back to Sophie. 

Agent Taylor clears his throat, so you turn your attention back to him. 

“This is my partner, Agent May,” he explains.

Dean is frozen to the spot, hand still on the door, glass of water in the other. 

“Yes..um…” he begins as he moves further into the room placing the glass on the desk. He fumbles with the inside pocket of his jacket, removing his badge, which he shows you. It’s upside down. Smirking, he flips it over. “Agent May,” he croaks. You notice his hands are shaking slightly. 

“Hello,” you nod at him, glancing at him briefly, then turning away. Attempting to take in a full breath, you count to 10 silently, hoping this will slow down your increasing heart rate. That smirk has brought all the memories of your night together crashing back. The way his hands touched you, the way those lips kissed you, the way he made love to you. 

“So Y/N,” Agent Taylor continues as Dean sits down next to him. He gives him a confused, side eyed glance, “were you here the night Mr Phelps took his own life?” he questions. 

“No, I was not on shift,” you respond, trying hard not to look at Dean who is fidgeting in his seat. He has a pen in his hand, and he keeps clicking the top. 

Click, click, click. 

Snatching it out of his hand and placing it on the table, Agent Taylor scowls at him. Dean's eyes meet yours with a questioning look. He shrugs his shoulders.

Holding his gaze for a second too long, you swallow. A wave of nausea washes over you, the gnawing in your stomach getting stronger. 

“Can I just get a glass of water?” you hear yourself say as you rise from your seat. With shaking legs you drop back down as beads of sweat form on the back of your neck and your vision blurs. 

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you hear Sophie ask, “are you ok Y/N?”

As your vision clears, you see that Dean has also risen from his seat. 

“Yes, yes,” you responded quietly, “I just need some air.” 

“I’ll help you outside,” Dean says as he walks around the desk. 

“No it’s fine,” you protest, but he is already by your side, taking your arm. His touch sends a bolt of lighting across your skin. Gently helping you up, he slips his arm around your waist, and leads you through the door into reception. 

The silence between you is palpable as you head to the courtyard out front. 

Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the cold spring air as Dean turns you to face him. 

“What was that about in there Y/N?,” Dean asks “why didn’t you want anyone to know we have met before?” 

“Hi Dean,” you respond sarcastically. You don’t know why you are feeling so hostile towards him as you were the one who walked away after you had slept together, not the other way around, but a feeling of anger rises inexplicably in your throat. 

“What are you doing here Dean or should I say Agent May? You’re not from the FBI.”

“Never mind that, I’ll explain later. I want to know why you left so suddenly that night?” 

“It was a long time ago, Dean. I didn’t expect to see you again, so just leave it,” you say as you turn to walk away. 

“No Y/N, I want to know what I did wrong? I thought we had a good time, and then you just upped and left with no explanation. Were you married or something?” he protests. 

“No. Everything I told you about my ex was the truth. We did have a good time, but it should never have happened,” you admit. “I was in a bad place, and not acting like myself.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, “But an explanation would have been nice.”

“Oh, so you have never slept with someone then left them hanging have you?” you snap. 

He stares at you with an indignant scowl.

Your cell rings. Pulling it out of your pocket you look at the display and see it’s your friend who is with your daughter. She only calls while you're at work when there is something wrong with Grace.

“I’ve got to take this,” you tell him, bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Y/N, sorry to bother you but Grace is running a temperature,” she says, “she’s really cranky and I’m not sure what to do.”

Shit. Perfect timing. 

“Okay, F/N. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her as you hang up the phone. 

“I have to go Dean. My daughter isn’t very well and the sitter just rang.” 

“Your daughter?” he asks, surprised, “How old is she?” 

“Six months,” you tell him quickly, not thinking as your focus is now on getting back to your daughter as quickly as possible. 

“S-six months?!” Dean stammers. Your eyes go wide as you realise your mistake, the panic rising in your stomach when you look up at the green eyed Winchester. You could see the cogs whirring in his brain, working it all out. You should have lied about her age.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning around to begin to walk away from him and this situation. 

“Is she mine?” His question made you slow down slightly but your mouth was unable to form the answer. You swallowed hard but before you could make your next move, Dean was behind you, grabbing your arm as he whirls you around to face him. 

“Let go of me, Dean!” you demand, attempting to pull away but he keeps a firm grip on you. 

“Y/N, is she mine?! I have a right to know,” he pleaded. With a bone dry mouth, your heart almost beating out of your chest, you look up at him as his green eyes search yours for his answer. This was it, you couldn’t hide it from him so you slowly begin to nod your head. 

“Yes.”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were driving alone after getting into a huge fight with your now ex-boyfriend. You had spotted a guy standing on the side of the road in the rain, hitching a ride, so you gave him a lift. That guy happened to be Dean Winchester and you had an unforgettable one night stand with him. In part 2 you meet Dean again after he and Sam turn up at the motel you are working in, following a lead. After seeing him you slipped up and told him he was the father of your daughter.

Dean’s eyes hold your stare as he attempts to process the information that you’d just dropped on him. His lips are moving but no sound is coming out, his hand is still gripping your arm. 

“I have a daughter?” he finally croaks, after what seems like an age, his voice breaking with shock and emotion. 

“Yes Dean and you're hurting my arm,” you admit, hanging your head as you struggle to break free. You can’t bear to look at him any longer. “She’s unwell so I need to get back to her.” 

He loosens his grasp, but leaves his hand resting on your arm. His eyes shine with unshed tears. 

“Can I come with you? I need to meet her,” he pleads. 

“No, Dean, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, wouldn’t your partner wonder where you have disappeared to?” 

Dean looks over his shoulder towards the motel entrance, and back at you. The battle that is going on in his mind is obvious. The vulnerable, pleading look on his face breaks your heart. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you search his incredible green ones. 

Eyes that are an exact match of Grace’s. 

The need for him to meet your daughter is becoming overwhelming and you know that you must allow him to do so eventually. Your heart is screaming at you to say ‘yes, come with me’, but your head is telling you that he needs more time. 

“Ur, yeah I guess so,” he concedes, “but we at least need to discuss this. Please, take my number. Call me when you’ve taken care of…” his voice trails off, “our daughter. What’s her name?” 

“Grace,” you tell him, handing him your cell. “Okay, put your number in my phone and I’ll call you later.” 

Dean programmes his number in and hands the phone back to you. 

“Please Y/N, let me know Grace is okay as soon as you can. Even if it’s just a text,” he asks as you turn to walk away. 

“I will Dean. I promise.” And you know that you will. The way he looked at you has made you feel emotions that you’d buried for such a long time, you thought you had forgotten how to feel them. 

As you continue walking to your car, you turn to watch Dean head back towards the motel. It reminds you why you ended up in bed with him in the first place. He was just so sexy. Those slightly bowed legs, wide shoulders, and perfect ass. And to make him look even better, he’s wearing a suit. Damn, he was fine. 

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you get in your car, and make your way to Chelsea’s house. On the journey, your head and your heart are at war. You understand that Dean needs to meet Grace. He’s her father after all, but if he meets her, you’d want him to be part of her life. But you don’t know how that would work. You don’t know anything about him. He has turned up, out of the blue, pretending to be from the FBI. 

Why is he here? And why are he and his partner, or whomever that other man is, interested in the suicides? 

Getting to Chelsea’s house, you let yourself in. Grace is in her arms, clearly upset, her little face red and screwed up. She holds her chubby arms out to you as you walk towards her.

“Oh my little sweet pea. What’s wrong with mommy’s baby girl?” you say as you take her in your arms, holding her against you, kissing the downy hair on her head. 

“Her temperature seems to have gone down slightly,” Chelsea tells you, “but she’s still very grizzly. I think she wanted her Mommy.”

“My little angel,” you soothe her, stroking her back as she buries herself into you, omitting hiccupy sobs. 

“You won’t believe what happened today,” you begin to tell Chelsea, rocking Grace in your arms, “Dean showed up at the motel.” 

“What! Seriously? Why?” Chelsea asks, a shocked expression on her face. 

“I’m not really sure yet,” you tell her. 

Grace has settled in your arms and seems to have fallen asleep, so you sit down. “He showed up with another guy, saying they’re from the FBI. They said they are investigating the suicides. I couldn’t believe it Chels. I was sitting in the office, telling Agent Taylor that I wasn’t on shift when it happened, when Dean walked in, and he was introduced as Agent May. I had to leave the room, I was so shocked. I almost passed out. He followed me outside.” 

“And?” she asks as she sits down next to you. 

“It just slipped out Chels,” you say, turning to face her, “I told him I needed to get back to Grace, and he asked how old she was. I should’ve lied, but I didn’t think! He quickly worked out the dates and asked if she was his. I couldn’t lie to him.” 

The emotion you had been holding in, comes crashing out and you break down. Chelsea takes Grace from you gently and places her in her crib. Wrapping her arms around you, you sob into her chest. 

“He wants to see her, and I don’t know what to do,” you explain between sobs. “He’s given me his number, so that I can tell him if she is okay, but I’m not sure if I want him to meet her. I mean, I know he should but…” You are unable to continue, so she holds you even tighter against her. 

“Why don’t you just text him, tell him that she’s okay?” she says, “he deserves that at least?” 

“Yeah I guess so,” you agree, sitting up, wiping the tears from your face. Taking out your cell, you type a brief message to Dean.

‘Dean, it's Y/N. Grace is fine. Just a little cranky. But she’s sleeping now.’

Within seconds you get a response.

‘Thank you for letting me know. I'm still at the motel. Will you be coming back? I need to see you.’ 

Showing the text to Chelsea you shrug, feeling tears prick your eyes again. 

“What should I say?” You ask her, your mind reeling. 

“Agree to meet him. You both have to talk about this Y/N.”

You knew she was right. Your heart skips a beat, thinking about seeing him again. Not only as you’ll need to discuss Grace, but as you haven’t stopped thinking about him since your night together. But you know this is something you have to do. 

Making up your mind, you turn to Chelsea. “Grace seems better now. Is it okay for her to stay here, just for a little while longer? I don’t think I’m quite ready for Dean to meet her yet. I need to speak to him on my own first.” 

“Yes of course. As long as you need,” she answers, giving you a brief hug. Having made up your mind, you answer Dean’s message.

‘There is a Starbucks just over from the motel. Can you be there in 30 minutes?’ 

Holding your breath, you wait for his response. 

‘I’ll be there.’

Going into the bathroom you wash your tear streaked face, and reapply some makeup. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you take a deep breath. You can’t show him how you’re feeling. How much you have thought about him, how much you have wanted him to be part of Grace’s life, but not knowing where to start in trying to find him. Truth be told, you had attempted to track him down, but to no avail. All the research you had done made it seem he didn’t exist. The fact he had turned up, disguised as an FBI agent only added to the mystery.

Kissing Grace, who was now sleeping soundly, and thanking Chelsea, you drive to the Starbucks and park up. Sitting in the car, your thoughts are a jumble of emotions when you spot Dean, alone, walking into the coffee shop. Watching him through the window, he walks to the counter, places an order, then takes a seat. 

Leaving the car, you walk slowly across the parking lot, a lump in your throat. You will not cry in front of him. Steadying your nerves, you open the door and enter. He looks up as you make your way towards him. 

“I wasn’t sure what to get you, so it’s just a flat white,” he says, gesturing towards a steaming cup on the table.

“That’s great thank you,” you smile, as you take a seat opposite him. 

“So Grace, she’s okay?” he asks, an expression of genuine concern on his face.

“Yes, just a slight temperature. I think she just wanted her Mommy. She was sleeping when I left,” you reassure him. 

“Tell me more about her. Do you have a picture?” His green eyes meet yours.

You are so desperate to talk to him about Grace, and have even chosen the picture of her you wanted to show him, but you need to find out more about the reason he is in town first. 

“Before we get into that Dean, I need to know what’s going on. Why are you here and why are you posing as FBI agents?” 

“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” he says, hanging his head, fiddling with the handle of his coffee cup.

“Try me,” you respond, leaning back and folding your arms. 

“Okay, well Sam is better at this than I am, but he’s not here so..” he begins, looking around the shop and leaning in closer to you “Sam and I aren’t with the FBI.” 

“I gathered that. So Agent Taylor is your brother Sam? The one you were trying to get back to the night we..met?” 

“Yes. And the family business I was telling you about? Well, we are hunters. That’s why we are here. We hunt the supernatural, and we think there is a case here.” He looks away from you, an embarrassed flush creeping up his cheeks. 

“Wait. What?” You can't disguise the incredulous tone in your voice, and feel bad for it immediately. 

“I told you you wouldn’t believe me,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I’m not saying I don’t believe you it’s just…” words begin to fail you as you try to explain. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. So you're telling me, supernatural stuff is real?” 

“Ghost, monsters, vampires, werewolves, heaven, hell all real.” The sincere expression on his face tells you he is not lying. 

“Let me get this straight. You and Sam hunt these things?” Dean nods. “So what do you think is happening here? A ghost in the motel?” you ask him. Your mind starts reeling as things begin to slot into place. Could you really have encountered a ghost that day in room 237? 

“Actually, what you’re saying makes sense,” you continue, explaining the incident to him. 

”Did it hurt you?” he asks with concern in his voice. 

“No, it just came at me before I ran from the room. But it sure scared the hell out of me!” you respond with a forced laugh, hoping you were hiding the fact you were trying to keep your voice even. 

“So you believe me?” 

“Yes, Dean. I believe you. So, why do you think this ghost is haunting that room? And how can you stop it?” 

“We aren't sure yet. That’s what Sam is trying to find out right now. But we’re sure that the suicides have something to do with it,” he tells you. 

There’s a brief silence, in which you continue trying to get your head around what Dean had just told you. Shifting in his seat, Dean cleared his throat, you could see he wasn’t quite sure what to say next. 

“Now we have that out of the way, tell me about Grace,” he said quietly. 

Opening your cell, you find the picture of her you want to show him. She is lying in her crib, wearing a Harry Potter Gryffindor onesie, her little arms outstretched to the camera, a toothless grin on her face. Her wide eyes are shining, the exact same shade of green as Dean’s. You remember taking the picture. You had been tickling her and she had been laughing so loudly. 

Passing your phone to him, you smile. 

“This was her last week,” you say as he takes the phone from you. As he looks down at the picture, he raises his fingers to his lips. 

“Wow Y/N, she’s beautiful,” he says, his voice cracking. “Please can I meet her? I really need to meet her. But Harry Potter? Seriously?” he chuckles, clearly trying to lighten the mood. 

“I love Harry Potter,” you say with a laugh. “But what happens then Dean?” you ask him, as he hands the phone back to you. “You solve the case, and leave town, never to return?” 

“Normally...yeah. But now, who knows Y/N? I mean, I don’t know what happens from one day to the next in this job. But I do know I’m not going anywhere until I least get to see my daughter. I think that’s only fair, don’t you?” 

You know he’s right. It would be unfair of you to refuse his request. After you dropped this bombshell, you can’t expect him to just leave without a backwards glance. 

“She’s with my friend at the moment, so we can go there together, then I can bring you back here. Have you told Sam?” 

“No, not yet. I need to get my head around it first, before I can answer any of his questions. I told him I may have a lead, so I’ll be gone for a few hours,” he explains. 

“Okay. I’m parked out front,” you tell him, rising from your seat. He follows you out to your car and you both get in. Starting the engine you drive away, towards Chelsea’s house. 

“So when we met, you were on a case?” you ask Dean. You’re intrigued to find out more about his life, realising that this could explain why you were unable to find anything on him when you had searched. 

“Yeah, in the next town over. Turned out to be a nest of vampires,” he explains, as he types a message in his phone, presumably to Sam. 

“I’m still struggling with the fact all this is real! Shit Dean, I mean...wow,” you giggle, shaking your head as you look out of the window. 

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” he answers. Hearing him call you sweetheart makes your stomach flutter. He called you that a few times when you were together last time. You recall how sexy you found his voice and realise that you still do. 

“Anyway, you know about my life, what about yours?” he continues, “what have you been doing with yourself? Apart from bringing up our daughter of course,” he says, a slight shameful tone to his voice. 

“That’s about it really, if I’m honest,” you admit “and working.” Having picked up on the note of shame in his voice, you attempt to reassure him he has nothing to feel guilty about. “Listen Dean, please don’t feel bad about not being part of Grace’s life. You didn’t know about her. I did try and find you, but couldn’t find anything on the internet about you, and knowing what I know now about your job, I understand why,” you consoled, a small smile on your lips. “We're here,” you announce as you pull the car into Chelsea’s drive. 

You both get out, and you walk towards her door. As you reach for the handle, Dean stops, placing his hand on yours. 

“Y/N. I’m nervous,” he says, as he smiles shyly at you. You can sense his nerves. Your heart aches with the need to comfort him. Not being able to resist any longer, you move towards him, wrapping your arms around him. 

He returns your embrace. The scent of him is so familiar yet a distant and fond memory. Still the same spearmint chewing gum, the clean, woody cologne. The only thing that’s slightly different is there is no scent of whiskey. His arms are strong, and pull you in tight. It feels so right, you’re afraid you are going to cry. 

“Okay, let's do this,” he says, as he steps away from you, visibly taking in a deep breath. Walking into the house, you shout out to Chelsea.

“Hey Chels. It’s only me.” She comes around the corner as you walk in. “Chelsea, this is Dean,” 

“Hi Dean. Nice to meet you. Please come in,” she says as she shakes his hand, throwing an appreciative nod towards you. 

Walking into the living room, with Dean close behind you, you approach Grace’s crib and gently lift her out, holding her sleeping body against you. You turn to Dean. 

“Dean. Meet your daughter.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were driving alone after getting into a huge fight with your now ex-boyfriend. You had spotted a guy standing on the side of the road in the rain, hitching a ride, so you gave him a lift. That guy happened to be Dean Winchester.

Dean looks at Grace, then back to you. 

“Go on. Take her,” you tell him, your eyes glancing down to the baby nestled against your chest. 

He hesitates, before lifting his arms. Passing your daughter to him, you smile when she nuzzles into his neck. 

————  
Dean had said he was going to visit the local police department. Sam offered to accompany him, but the older Winchester had been unusually insistent that he wanted to go alone, so eventually Sam had agreed that he would go back to the motel and continue with his research. He had noticed the way Dean’s mood had changed when Y/N came into the room and that he had gone after her when she said she needed to get some air. He wondered if they had met before, but Dean had never mentioned having visited this town previously. Sam wasn’t naive enough to think that his brother didn’t have secrets from him though. She was probably one of the many notches on his bedpost. 

Stripping off his suit jacket, he hangs it in the small wardrobe. Tugging his tie from around his neck, he throws it onto the bed that Dean had slept in the night before, and changes into a pair of jeans and plaid shirt. Taking a sip of his take out coffee, he lies on the mattress and opens his laptop, bringing up the internet browser to see if there is any more information he can find out about the town, more specifically, the motel they were here to investigate. 

A list of articles pop up on the screen. News reports about the usual town events, a few B&E’s, a mugging, a drug store being robbed at gunpoint. But one in particular catches his eye. A house fire, which had happened around a month ago. He clicks on the link to expand the page. 

‘Family of four escape inferno’ the headline stated. 

He quickly scans the story. 

‘A family of four were lucky to escape from their home yesterday evening when it went up in flames. Luckily, the smoke alarms alerted the homeowner, Peter Johnson, to the danger and he managed to get his wife, Deborah Johnson and their two children, Jake, 4 and Lydia, 6 months, out of the house before the fire took hold. Investigators believe the fire started in the youngest child’s room and think it may have been an electrical fault.’

Deborah Johnson? Why did that name sound familiar? He is sure that was a name that came up earlier when he was at the motel. Realising that he had left the notebook he had been using during the interviews in his jacket pocket, he stands to retrieve it. 

A horrendous pain sears through Sam’s skull. He brings his hands to his head, a hiss of pure agony escaping his lips. The force of the torture brings him crashing to his knees on the carpeted floor of the motel room. Disturbing images begin to flash across his mind. 

Dean is holding a baby and Y/N is standing in front of him. She is smiling at Dean as the baby nuzzles into his neck. The image disappears, replaced with a blinding light. The throb intensifies as Sam sees a small bedroom with a crib below the window. He can feel heat above him. The angle of the vision raises towards the ceiling. Y/N is suspended there, a silent scream on her lips, a bloody gash across her stomach. Surrounded by flames. 

—————-

Chelsea had given Dean and Y/N some privacy and had left them alone. She had felt as though she was intruding on an intimate family moment, even though it was her home, so made the excuse that she needed to go to the store. Dean is sitting on the sofa with Grace on his lap. There is no denying she is his daughter. Her eyes are an exact copy of his. On the table beside him is a glass of lemonade that Y/N had made for him. When she had offered him a drink, he had thought she meant something stronger. When she had handed him the soft drink, he hadn’t had the heart to tell her he had presumed it would be alcohol, so had reluctantly accepted it, although he secretly wished it was whiskey. He had no idea what he was going to do next. Grace had really taken to him. She was currently mesmerised by the bracelet around Dean’s wrist, her little fingers twirling around it, leaning down now and again to put a bead in her mouth, rubbing her gum along it. 

“She’s wonderful isn’t she?” Y/N says, the pride obvious in her voice. 

“She really is. Listen Y/N-” 

The sound of his cell ringing in his pocket interrupts what he was about to say. Cursing, then immediately apologising, he hands Grace back to Y/N and reaches for his phone. Grace starts to fidget, her pudgy arms reaching for Dean. 

Flipping the phone open, he sees that it’s his brother. 

“I should take this,” he tells Y/N, guilt washing over him as he turns away from his daughter’s open arms. 

“Sammy. What’s up?” 

“Dean. Where are you?” Sam asks, his voice sounding strained and hoarse. 

“I’m eh..” he tries to come up with a lie, but he suddenly realises Sam sounds off. “You sound strange. Something wrong?” 

“I’ve had another one,” Sam tells him. “I’ve had another vision. But this time you were in it.” 

“What do you mean I was in it? What happened?”

“I don’t want to go into it over the phone. When will you be back?” Sam questions, his tone making it obvious to Dean that the vision has upset him. 

“Well, I’m a little busy at the moment Sammy. Can’t you just tell me now?” 

“Busy with what?” 

“With the case, Sam. What else? And what’s with all the questions?” Dean snaps. He rubs his hand over his face, regretting taking out his frustration on his younger brother. “Sorry Sammy. Give me 30 minutes and I’ll be back. I have something to tell you,” he finishes, hanging up the phone.

Through the whole exchange with Sam, you bounce Grace on your knee, not really wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation, but you notice Dean seems a little stressed. You can’t really blame him. This time yesterday he didn't know he was a father. In a matter of 24 hours he had not only had this information thrown at him by someone he presumably thought was just a one night stand and he would never see again, but he had also met his daughter who had taken an obvious shine to him. You can completely understand how this would be hard to accept, and you would be more concerned if he hadn't seemed to be in some emotional turmoil. 

As he flipped his phone closed, he stared at it for a while, before turning back to you. 

“That was Sam. He seemed upset about something. I’m so sorry Y/N, but I have to go.”

“No problem, it’s fine.”

“But I’d like to see you, and Grace of course, again soon. Tomorrow maybe?” 

“I guess that depends on what Sam has found out. You still have a case to solve,” you remind him. 

“Ah yes, of course,” he says, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He clears his throat, a sure sign that he is still not comfortable with the situation he has found himself in. “Shall I text or call you?” he asks, putting on the jacket that he had removed when he had entered. 

“That would be good,” you smile at him, but deep down you are not convinced you are going to hear from him again. You had overheard him tell Sam he had something to tell him and began to wonder if it was about you and Grace. 

“If you are going to come by tomorrow, I had better give you my address.” You have suddenly realised that he doesn’t know where you live. This was Chelsea’s house. 

“Ah, that would be a good idea,” Dean manages a smile and a soft chuckle. A shiver runs through you when you hear the sound. If you had closed your eyes you could have sworn it was Grace laughing. The sounds were almost identical. She was so much like Dean it was actually frightening. 

Placing Grace down in her crib, you rummage in a draw under the phone, finding a piece of paper and a pen. Writing down your address, you hand it to Dean. He smiles, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“Right. Okay then. So. I’ll text you tomorrow yeah?” 

“I’m in work until 1pm, but I’m free anytime after that,” you explain. From her crib, Grace lets out a shout. Dean looks over at her, and she is holding her arms out to him. Gently lifting her out, he holds her close to him. 

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he tells her, as he kisses the downy hair on her head. Handing her back to you, he moves towards the door. With his hand on the handle he turns to you. 

“See ya Y/N,” he utters softly as he leaves. 

————

As he steps out on the street, Dean realises that Y/N drove him over here. He had completely forgotten that he didn’t have Baby, that she was still parked in the Starbucks where he had met Y/N earlier on that day. 

“Shit!” he exclaims. He turns back to the house, wondering if he should go back in and ask Y/N to drive him back to the coffee shop, but thinks he’ll look like a dick if he does that, so he pulls out his phone to call Sam to come and collect him. He answers on the third ring. 

“I need you to pick me up,” Dean informs him, “then I need you to take me to collect Baby.” 

“What? Why aren’t you with the car now?” Sam asks.

“Long story. I’ll explain when I see you. I’m at...hold on I don’t actually know where I am,” he spins on the spot, trying to see a street sign. There is one at the bottom of the road. Walking to it, he reads the name out to his brother. 

“Why aren’t you at the police station?” 

“Like I’ve already told you, long story. I don’t want to go into it over the phone,” he quotes Sam’s earlier statement, a smirk snakes over his lips. 

“Touché,” Sam counters. “How exactly do you expect me to come and get you, when you have the car,”

“That’s the point. I don’t have the car do I? Otherwise I wouldn’t be calling you,” Dean tuts. “There must be a car you can hot wire in the motel parking lot? Speaking of, how did you get back?”

“I got a bus. Like what most normal people would do when they don’t have a car, Dean.” 

“I am not getting on a bus!” he says, horrified that it was even suggested. “You have your choice of cars there surely? I won’t hurt if you just steal one for like 30 minutes would it? It’ll be back before anyone even notices it has gone.” 

“No, Dean. I am not stealing a car to pick you up. You got there, you can get back.” 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

Sam hangs up his end before Dean has a chance to respond. 

Huffing, Dean walks down the street towards the bus stop he has spotted on the corner. 

—————-  
Arriving back at the Motel 6 two hours later, Dean flings the door open to his and Sam’s room. He drops a take out bag on the table. 

His jacket is over his arm, shirt untucked, tie askew and dangling around his neck. Sam looks up from his position on the bed and smirks. 

“What happened to you?” he asks, trying to stifle a laugh. 

“I hate you.” Dean hisses, “I am never-“ each word is punctuated with a pull on the knot in his tie “-getting on public transport ever again!” He throws his jacket on the back of the chair before launching himself on the bed. 

“I had to take three buses to get to Baby. And on each bus I had someone decide to sit next to me. On bus one it was the guy who smelled like garbage and kept offering me his bottle which he had in a brown bag, on bus two it was the cat lady who insisted on showing me photos of each of her 16 cats, and on the third and final bus I had the goth who stared at me the whole way and didn’t say a word. I resorted to showing him my gun. That made him move. Demons I get. People are crazy.” 

“You look like you need this,” Sam says, handing him a beer. He pops the cap on the bottle and chugs half the bottle. “Woah. You really did need it!” Dean wipes his hand over the back of his mouth and burps. Sam scowls at him, and sits back on his bed. “And what’s in the bag?” He glances at the take out Dean had come in with.

“Oh yes.” Dean smiles as he hops off the bed and stalks over to the table. “I was so traumatised by the journey, I needed pie.” Sam rolls his eyes as Dean opens the bag and sighs, the sound almost pornographic. He takes a large bite, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head with pleasure. 

“Anyway. What was so urgent?” Dean asks, his mouth full of the pecan pie, crumbs from his mouth dropping onto the surface in front of him. 

“Well, you took so long getting here, the urgency has kind of passed. But, yeah, I had a vision and it kinda freaked me out.” 

“Tell me,” Dean encourages him, his tone serious now he knows it worries Sam. 

“It started with you, holding a baby. The girl from the motel was there. The one who you ran after earlier.” Upon hearing this, Dean swallows the last piece of pie, coughing as a crumb catches in his throat. Punching his chest, he sits up straight and swings his body around to face Sam. “Then it changed,” he continued, “It was just like Mom and Jessica. But this time it was the motel girl on the ceiling.” 

“Wait. I was holding a what now?” Dean asks Sam, the incredulity obvious in his voice. 

“You heard me. A baby. Why did I see you with the girl from the motel Dean?” 

“All that you saw in that vision of yours, and the one part you are more interested in is the bit where I’m with a woman?” Dean raises his voice, “What about seeing her on the ceiling in flames? Aren’t you more concerned about that?” He pushes his chair back, and starts to pace the room. 

“Dean, hey calm down.” Sam stands, raising his hands in surrender “Yes, the vision scared me, but there is no way anything will come of it, as you haven’t been with the girl from the motel.” He turns away from Dean, to pick up his beer. The realisation hits him and he spins on his heels to face him. 

“That’s where you were this afternoon wasn’t it?”

Dean drops back down onto the bed and lowers his head, clasping his hands in front of him and allows Sam to rant. 

“I knew something was weird with you this afternoon! How do you know her?” Sam started, “Oh don’t tell me. You’ve slept with her before haven’t you? And she was pissed at you because you promised to call her and never did.” 

“Have you finished? For fucks sake Sam, sit down. I have something to tell you.” 

Sam sighs and sits on his bed. “When were you here before anyway?” 

“If you let me speak I’ll explain everything.” 

Dean went through the whole story. From meeting Y/N, to their one night stand, then on to the events of the day, and how he met his daughter. 

“So, I’m an uncle?” Sam shakes his head, “I hate to be the one to say this, and I’m pretty sure it has crossed your mind, but are you 100% certain she is yours?” 

“If you saw Grace, then you would see there is no denying she’s my daughter. She has the exact same-“

Dean’s voice catches in his throat as Sam’s hands suddenly fly to his head and he grunts in pain, his knees buckling underneath him. 

“Sammy!” Dean runs across the room, managing to catch him under the arms before he hits the ground. He lowers him down carefully, watching Sam’s face contort with agony. “What are you seeing?” 

Sam’s voice is strained, but he manages to croak out, “You need to get to Y/N and Grace. Now Dean!”


End file.
